


Alone Together

by SassyPants



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Feels, Hurt Steve, Hurt Tony, Love, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Smut, Thanksgiving, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 03:49:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12808956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyPants/pseuds/SassyPants
Summary: Tony calls Steve, because even after everything they've gone through, no one should have to be alone on Thanksgiving.





	Alone Together

Steve didn’t expect the number from the phone he gave Tony to to come up when it rang, especially on a day like Thanksgiving. He assumed Stark would have better things to do.

What if something had happened? What if someone needed him? Steve answered the phone. “Hello?”

There was silence on the other end, and then Tony said, “Cap.”

“Tony. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, no crises. I was just wondering how you’re doing.”

Steve hesitated. How he was doing? He didn’t want to lie, but he didn’t want to tell the truth, either. Captain America didn’t lie, though, not even when he should. “I’m safe.”

“You’re alone,” Tony said.

“I’m alone,” Steve confirmed.

“That’s a hell of a way to spend Turkey Day, you know.”

Steve smiled despite himself, his heart aching. He missed Tony and their friendship, and it killed him to hear his voice. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess so.”

There was another moment of silence, then Tony said, “Turns out I am, too. So maybe we can be alone together over a meal.”

Steve’s voice became rough. “You really want to?”

Tony said, “Whatever happened between us, you shouldn’t be alone today.”

Steve said, “I’ll be there. Where is ‘there?’”

Tony said, “My place. I’ll send a car to your old place in Brooklyn. That way you don’t have to tell me where you’re hiding out.”

“Thanks, Tony. It’ll be good to see you again.”

Tony said, “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too sentimental. It’s just a meal.” Then he hung up.

Steve smiled again. That was so Tony. He got dressed in the best clothes he had while he was on the run: new-looking jeans, a button-down shirt, tucked in. He knew Tony would be dressed to impress, and the money he threw at his wardrobe was mind-boggling, but this would have to do. He took the train to his old place in Brooklyn. It had changed so much he barely recognized the place. There was a car waiting for him.

He made the trip upstate in silence, looking out the window, watching the scenery fly by. Memories of the trip made dozens of times before left him melancholy. He would defend Bucky all over again in a heartbeat, but he was poignantly aware of what the choice had cost him, his friendship with Tony foremost.

When the Avengers’ compound loomed into view, Steve sat up a little taller. Brooklyn may have changed, but the compound looked exactly how he’d last left it. There were no cars parked out front save Tony’s flashy red Audi. He wasn’t kidding about being alone on Thanksgiving.

Melancholy had turned to numbness somewhere along the way, and after he got out of the car, he made his way on auto-pilot toward the residential part of the compound. His feet knew the way, and he just let them have at it. He pushed the doorbell button, and Friday welcomed him in, her Aussie accent a cheery counterpart to how he felt. She led the way to the dining room, and he followed.

There Tony stood, and he too hadn’t changed save for maybe a few more lines of worry instead of laughter around his eyes. He was dressed in some designer suit, and Steve smiled inwardly, because he knew Tony so well. “It’s good to see you, Tony,” he said.

Tony said, “It’s good to be seen, have some wine.”

Okay, so maybe he hadn’t forgiven Steve entirely, but at least this was an olive branch. “Thanks,” Steve said, and he sat at the long table, where a spread for two had been set out at the very end.

Tony sat at the head, of course, and he poured a lovely Chardonnay for them both. Steve held the glass offered him, sniffing the bouquet, though wines were little more than fermented grape juice to him. It smelled like wine. Tony raised his glass, and he said, “So what are we drinking to, Cap?”

Steve tilted his head in thought. “How about drinking together instead of alone? And gratitude. It is the day, after all.”

Tony nodded slowly. “Sure, to those things.” He took a drink, then said, “So what are you grateful for?”

Steve drank, then swirled the wine in his glass. “Friends,” he said. “Scattered, gone, but not forgotten. How about you? What are you thankful for?”

Tony went quiet. A heavy silence hung in the air, and Steve almost regretted the question. Finally, Tony said, “The September Foundation. It’s doing quite well.”

Steve raised his glass to that. “That’s great, Tony,” he said, then took another sip.

They ate in silence at first, and Steve let his appetite fill the quietness. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a decent meal. Probably at Clint’s, shortly after he let him go. He wondered if the gang was still hiding out there. He couldn’t stay. He knew he was needed out in the world, helping on the sly wherever he could.

Finally, Tony said, between bites of the best turkey dinner money could buy, “It’s good to see you looking well, Cap.”

Steve bowed his head, then looked up at Tony. “I was just about to say the same about you.”

Tony looked him in the eye, and Steve knew then that Tony wasn’t doing so well. He had that desperate hunger behind the good cheer, and the hurt was raw in his features. “Yeah, I’m doing okay.”

Steve’s stomach twisted in knots. “Tony…”

Tony put down his fork and finished up his wine. Dinner was done. “Come on, let’s have a drink before dessert.”

Steve sighed softly. “All right,” he said.

They got to their feet and Tony ushered Steve into the lounge. It was as spacious as he remembered, too roomy for just two people. Tony walked to the bar and poured a splash of scotch into two tumblers, and handed one to Steve. “I know you can’t get drunk,” he said, “but it’s the thought that counts.”

Steve raised his glass with only a small smile, and he took a sip. He had to admit, it was good scotch. There was a smoky burn that left a sweet aftertaste. Sadly, it did little to warm him. His body had it metabolized by the time it reached his stomach. “It’s good stuff.”

“My favorite,” Tony said. He kept his gaze on his glass as he said, “You know, Cap…”

Steve tilted his head. “Yeah?”

Tony shook his head. “Never mind.” He poured himself some more scotch and drank maybe a little too liberally.

Steve didn’t need to lecture Tony on his drinking. He wouldn’t be telling him anything Tony didn’t already know. “You know, I’ve been keeping an eye on things from a distance, and you’ve been doing a lot of great things, not just with the September Foundation, but--”

“With the Accords?” Tony said. “Yeah, we’re curtailing a lot of vigilante violence.”

Steve arched an eyebrow. “I was going to say the stuff you’re doing with prosthetics, helping people walk again.”

Tony bowed his head again. “Thanks.”

Steve set his glass on the bar and said, “Tony, let’s just be friends again for one night.”

Tony said, “You mean turn it on and off like a switch?”

Steve said, “No, I didn’t mean it like that, I just…” He didn’t want to fight with Tony, or stand there with a dull ache for all the stuff they didn’t dare talk about.

Tony downed the last of his glass and said, “I know what you mean, Rogers, I’m just throwing you a curveball.”

Steve said, “Good. It’s just that I do miss you, and the past year has been hard on both of us. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but if we could just remember why we were friends in the first pla--”

Tony stepped up and placed a soft kiss on the corner of Steve’s mouth. An arm slipped around Steve’s waist. “Things can’t go back to the way they were before,” he murmured, “but that doesn’t mean things are over. You make me crazy, Steve.”

Steve blinked in surprise at the sudden turnaround. “Tony? I don’t get it.” He didn’t pull away, though. Reflexively, he slipped both arms around Tony. Bucky would always been his best friend, closer than a brother, but what Tony had meant to him, all the things he never dared say… It was one hell of a way to see those feelings he never acted on be reciprocated.

Tony kissed Steve again. “You’re not always the sharpest tool in the shed,” he murmured. “Look, let’s not talk. Let’s just be what each other needs tonight.”

Steve returned the kiss, then kissed Tony again. “Okay,” he said. “Tony, I want you so much.”

Tony placed a finger over his mouth and said, “No talking.”

Steve nodded and watched Tony go down on his knees. He bit his lips as Tony gripped his cock through his jeans, giving it a firm squeeze. Steve’s cock started to swell, stretching against the fabric. Tony covered it with his mouth, his breath hot and damp. Steve leaned against the bar and moaned, his head falling back.

Apparently moaning was allowed, because Tony didn’t scold him for that. Instead, he freed Steve’s cock from its denim prison. Tony peeled down his boxers, and he took Steve’s naked flesh in his mouth, down to the back of his throat. Steve’s knees sagged, and he held himself up by his grip on the bar. That hunger Steve had seen earlier in Tony’s eyes came back full force in the eagerness with which he tongued and sucked.

Steve gazed down at Tony, watching his head bob as he fucked Steve with his mouth. The sight of those lips wrapped tightly around his shaft, the way it appeared and disappeared, and the squeeze of that tight, wet vise of Tony’s mouth overwhelmed Steve. He ground his hips, humping into Tony’s mouth with abandon, and before long, he started to warn Tony, but he remembered: no words allowed. He bit back a cry and thrust into Tony’s mouth a final time before his climax exploded from him. Tony swallowed every drop with a determination that was almost grim.

When it was over, Steve sagged against the bar, gasping. Tony stood up, gripped Steve by the back of the neck, and kissed him deeply. Steve tasted himself on Tony’s lips, and the reality of what just happened hit him. He kissed Tony back with fervor.

Tony drew away from the kiss, took Steve by the arm, and directed him toward one of the couches. “Bend over,” he said. Curt, as few words as possible.

Steve pursed his lips, feeling a little bad and a lot good at the same time. He knew what was coming, or at least he hoped he knew. “Okay,” he said. He had to be a little contrary. It wasn’t enough to get a reprimand, but Tony did give him a Look.

Steve smiled a little, and he got to his knees on the floor, bending over the couch to rest his elbows on the cushions. Tony dropped down behind him, and there was the sound of clothing rustling as he freed his cock. Steve had no idea where Tony produced the lube, but he started when a slicked up finger slid into his ass.

It was strange, the silence, and the diligence with which Tony opened him up. There was tenderness in the touch, too. Especially when Tony inserted a second finger and began to really stretch Steve out. Steve tried to remember how to relax, but he hadn’t taken a cock since before the war ended.

Tony bent over him to kiss the nape of his neck, his breath coming hard and heavy. He withdrew his fingers, replacing them with the slick, hard pressure of his cock trying to breach him. After a harder push, the head popped through Steve’s tight ring. He gasped and let his eyes fall closed, his head bent between his arms like a man in prayer. He made himself breathe, relax, and he pushed back just a little. That helped Tony gain a few more inches.

Tony’s gripped hard on Steve’s hips, pulling him onto his cock. Steve gripped the side of the couch cushion to hold his ground. After a little give and take, Tony was buried to the hilt inside of him. For a moment, they stayed that way, their ragged breathing filling the room.

After Steve had a moment to get used to it, Tony withdrew, then thrust home again. That time it went easier, and Steve relaxed further. By his third or fourth thrust, Tony had built to a rhythm that carried him through a hard, steady fucking.

Whatever pain there was, Steve could take it, and soon the pain even went away. There was just him and Tony, locked together, Tony giving it to him hard. He had dreamt of this moment so many times over the past several years. Even though he fought with Tony constantly, he had always hoped for reconciliation to come with lust.

He knew Tony needed to use him, and he gave in to it, murmuring wordless encouragement, which got a harder fucking. He had hurt Tony beyond forgiving, but at least tonight they could both give each other what they needed, and maybe it was enough. His heart ached as Tony grunted, rutting on him like an animal. It could’ve been so tender between them, or maybe not. They were always oil and a spark.

Eventually, Tony’s breathing hitched, and he slammed into Steve hard, whispering in his ear, “I still love you.” Steve moaned at the words, then again when he felt pulse after pulse of Tony’s jism filling his ass. Tony then collapsed atop him, panting.

For awhile they lay like that. Then Tony withdrew, and awkwardly they got dressed. Then they got to their feet, and for a moment they couldn’t quite look at one another.

Finally, Steve said, “Tony…”

“Let me stop you right there,” Tony said, holding up a finger. “Things aren’t okay between us. I don’t know when they will be, or if.”

Steve dropped his gaze. He wasn’t sorry for what he’d done, but he did regret the cost.

Gentler, Tony added, “But maybe we can see each other this Christmas.”

Steve dared a smile. “Yeah, I think I’ll be free this Christmas.”

Tony poured them each another splash of scotch. Handing Steve his glass. “Until then, Happy Thanksgiving.”

Steve took a drink, then nodded. “Yeah. Happy Thanksgiving.”


End file.
